


Think, Wink, and Double Blink

by slashisfamilyhistory



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Background Aziraphale/Crowley, Drabbles, Gen, Kid Fic, Theyre still pining, but they kind of know what grounds they stand on, nanny ashtoreth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-19 12:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashisfamilyhistory/pseuds/slashisfamilyhistory
Summary: A bunch of drabbles about Crowley and Warlock Dowling when Warlock was a toddler.Basically, I'm a nanny, and trying to train myself to write everyday. So yeah, I'll be directly drawing influence from my everyday, and restaging it with these two.SHOULD update every day.Aziraphale will hardly be in here, but seeing as I have a real life counterpart to draw inspiration from, he'll probably pop up from time to time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mary Poppins, another excellent Nanny.

Warlock was fast approaching his second birthday, and Crowley and Aziraphale had insinuated themselves into the Dowling household some months ago. For his part, Crowley mostly stuck to himself.

  
Well, and Warlock.

  
It had been a long and energetic day, bouncing one from one activity to the next. Crowley had thought he could seem aloof, or prim, or proper, but that notion had gone quickly out the window when faced with a live baby who had recently learned the joys of walking and talking.  
Besides, having fun and raising the antichrist didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. Surely listening to music written by an artist who was in hell counted as a hellish influence as he put on “Yellow Submarine” once again.

“Oh,” he crooned at Warlock when he was dressed, “who’s so evil?” He waited for Warlock to point emphatically at himself and exclaim “Wohlock!” (for this is how he pronounced his name), then responded “ _You’re_ so evil!”

One of the first few nap times, he had sung Warlock the only lullaby that a demon knows. The second time, Warlock had wiggled and said no every time he restarted. So, Crowley put him to bed with no singing, and was resolved to learn some new ones. He spent maybe ten minutes attempting this before the constant wailing from the baby monitor drove him back to Warlock’s side. Crowley picked him back up, rocking him, and whispered in the quiet Scottish lilt of Nanny Ashtoreth. “Come now, little beast, what seems to be eating you? Don’t you know you can rid it with a thought?” Warlock continued fussing, though the wailing seemed to be over with, until Crowley tried to place him back in the crib. “Now this won’t do,” he said. “Too tired to even wonder about destroying the world. See, all you need is a good nap, and you’ll be wrong as rain again.” The noises continued, and Crowley knew full well that he was saying “song” in his developing tongue. “Fine,” Crowley caved, “I’ll sing you a song, beast of the pit, if you promise not to tell anyone what I sang.” By the end of “Love of My Life”, Warlock was quiet and dry eyed, and accepted his pacifier and blanket as he was laid in his crib.

Today’s nap had been rather different. All tuckered out, Warlock had fallen asleep in Crowley’s arms while still in the rocking chair. Crowley couldn’t help it, as he rocked and gazed at the small, sleeping figure, he felt a surge of love. He knew it was wrong, the way he felt it. He was a demon; this was the antichrist. But all the same, if no one knew he had felt it, then no one could stop him from holding the boy in his arms just a few minutes longer, admiring the fact that he seemed to be failing spectacularly at making this child even remotely evil, for evil is very hard to be when one is not yet two.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley tried not to feel triumphant, but he would allow himself all the Pride he wanted. Dinner that night had been one of the boring state affairs that the whole Dowling family, and by extension, Nanny Ashtoreth, had been required to attend. Harriett had brought Warlock and was supposed to be responsible for him until dinner, so Crowley had done his best to shrink to the side as he was supposed to.

Of course, he still kept a trained eye on the child, who was careening around the room with little supervision from Harriett. It was expected then, when Warlock fell and hit his knee against the door frame. What was not to be expected, was that when Harriett scooped him, and kissed her hand to pat his knee with, he had wiggled free still crying, until he had squirmed across the seating to Crowley, where he then pointed at his knee expectantly. Though he was perfectly aware how many people were likely watching him, Crowley fixed his attention solely on Warlock, and said sweetly, “oh, did you need kisses better?” He waited for Warlock to nod, then brought his knee up and kissed it. The crying stopped immediately, and Crowley said “there you are,” as he slid off his lap to resume his running.

Crowley hid his smugness under a veneer of apology.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worm y'all thanks for all the love this has been getting!

Now, it wasn't that Harriett Dowling didn't try. She did. But she and parenting were not only not friends, they were mostly strangers. They were people sitting at a bus stop who strike up a surprisingly friendly conversation, or your parent's aunts and uncles at a very large family reunion, who you have to answer the same questions to each one of them.

It didn't bother Crowley, he mostly felt sorry for her. This morning's incident was small in the scale of things. Apparently, Warlock had leaked through his diaper in the night (not Crowley's jurisdiction). It wasn't a problem, but it meant that Harriett had had to dress Warlock for the day. Crowley did his best to discourage this usually, as Harriett Dowling had no idea what looked good on children.

Today's offense was egregious: it wasn't just that they didn't match, he looked rather like an advertisement for children's fourth of July clothing from one of the tacky magazines your grandmother can't seem to unsubscribe from. And they had places to go today. Well, to heaven with it, he'd have to change. Perhaps if Crowley let him wear clothes during breakfast he'd spill on them. Breakfast, however, was decidedly not messy. Every morning, Crowley had a cup of tea, a slice of toast, and a hard-boiled egg (there was a strange rumor about how fast Nanny could eat- no one ever seemed to notice her eating the egg and toast; they'd turn around and it would be gone, nothing left but the tea that she would sip at until Warlock was done eating)(Crowley ate, he just didn't chew). Unfortunately, today the cook had seen fit to make the same for Warlock, so no chances for spills.

Well, it still wouldn’t do, so Crowley made sure he was spiffy enough for the day. _Spiffy_ , he chided himself. Sounded like Aziraphale was rubbing off on him. He had actually, for some inexplicable reason, called him near tears during lunch. Crowley had picked it up, having Warlock greet him to make it clear that he was still on duty. It had only turned out to be the strain of keeping an entire _estate’s_ gardens kept (Crowley had _told_ him he’d need help), and when he had popped by during nap time everything seemed to be _miraculously_ all right. And, if their time chatting was cut short by the baby monitor sitting by Crowley on the table, it was all right as well, for for the first since moving in, Warlock was calling for Nanny.


	4. Chapter 4

Warlock Dowling had very long hair for a two year old boy. Not that Crowley cared, even remotely, and Harriett certainly never said anything. On one memorable occasion, not a month after Crowley had begun working, Thaddeus had happened to be home for the weekend and at dinner (still, unfortunately Crowley's duty) had had a LONG, one sided conversation about how Warlock needed his hair cut. All "growing boy" this and "strong son" that. Well. Harriett, not wanting to hear anything more of it, had gotten at it that night, and asked Crowley's help. Hmmph. He hadn't wanted any part in pushing gender roles on him. It wasn't like he would need one as the antichrist, anyway. But he didn't want to beg off, and he didn't want to leave Warlock on his own. So he ended up being roped into the whole scheme.

It wasn't a total loss, though. The second the scissors had gotten near his face, he started screaming. Not whimpering, or whining, or crying, or even yelling- screeching, with the kind of unholy power that one expected of the Antichrist. Yet, it had been over a pair of scissors, not exactly a terrific foe. Oh well, perhaps that was their influence balancing out.

In the end, his hair had stayed long, and the Dowlings had likely had a fight. Crowley didn't care, he had already headed to bed and counted it a success.

It was how he ended up that morning, doing Warlock's hair. The back was already touching his shoulders, though his baby hairs were thick and his cowlick nigh unmanageable, and made all his hair fall in his face. Whenever Thaddeus was out of town (usually all weekdays and most weekends), Crowley would spend a little time in the mornings doing his hair nicely.

This had taken a bit of learning, as one of the first mornings Crowley had tried this, he had attempted a simple french braid. The issue was not, of course, Crowley's skill- he had been braiding hair for millenia. He had just never tried to braid a toddler's hair, fine and soft, and unable to hold any shape you tried to pull it into. So Crowley had done a little research, gotten a comb, bag of colorful rubber ties, and a small spray bottle, and was now able to do plenty of styles that would stay. At least, until nap time, Warlock was a wiggly sleeper. Just as well that Harriett didn't see it at the end of the day, only the plain black clip Crowley would use after nap to keep it out of his face.

Usually, he put a movie or show on during the twenty or so minutes it took him to put his hair up. So far, they had made it through Frozen, several episodes of Little Einsteins, Finding Nemo, and, to Crowley's chagrin, Lion King, _twice_ (Aziraphale had teased him relentlessly the second time when Warlock asked for it- "It is _not_ just Hamlet in Africa, Angel, the only one who dies is Mufasa, and Scar!").

Today, Crowley went with a recent barbie movie, having heard it had decent music. They made it through the first ten minutes with no incident, Warlock was thrilled about the cat. However, a minute into the villain's song, Warlock began whining and poking the screen of the phone where he had seen Crowley push the skip button.

"What's the matter?" Crowley crooned, trying to keep the child's hands from the screen, which only served to make him cry harder. "Alright, alright, we'll skip it, don't worry," he soothed, skipping the song out of Warlock's eyesight, in an attempt to keep him from associating skipping with touching the screen. It wasn't particularly a game Crowley wanted to play every time they did his hair.

It all went well, until said villain came on screen again a minute later, at which point the fit resumed.

"Ok, ok, don't worry, we'll watch another one. What about one with an..... elephant?" Crowley tried, bringing the phone up, switching over to the barbie film that had all the animals in it. Elephants, lions, whales, otters, and cats were currently Warlock's favorite animals.

However, not five minutes in, and Warlock began crying about a scene that took place at night. Skipping to day did not help, and by this point Crowley was starting to get annoyed, he really only needed five more minutes to finish his hair.

"Ok, ok, not barbie. How about Little Einsteins again, yes? Not sure what's wrong with barbie, you seem to like Disney alright, but, oh, here we are, see? The kids, and the red rocket ship?" Through all the coddling words Warlock had calmed, and was now watching raptly as Crowley set the phone in front of him.

Crisis averted, Crowley quietly worried as he sectioned off more hair and pulled it into a tie. Had he been spending too much time with Aziraphale? Is that why he had so quickly been frightened of the darkness? He was the Antichrist, surely something as simple as nighttime wouldn't unsettle him so? Deep down, his time with Aziraphale wasn't what worried Crowley about his upbringing.

He had hoped that he could just give this child the love he needed, and teach him about razing the world, to do his job the way Crowley did his own. But Crowley knew, oh, he knew what made humans be truly evil, or cruel. Hurt, and pain. The lack of love or community. These were things he didn't know if he could inflict on Warlock, no matter how bad his reports to hell would look. He had been easily able to spin the hair cutting incident in his favor, and he was still riding out that one a bit.

Warlock's was hair was done, so Crowley reached down to turn off the show, cooing to Warlock, "all done? Oh, how cute is Warlock?"

"So cute!" Warlock giggled.

"So cute," Crowley agreed. "And, who's so evil?"

"Mmm, Wohlock!"

"That's right. You're going to burn the whole world down for Nanny, aren't you."

Well, it wasn't as if Crowley actually wanted the world burned down. He'd suffer whatever punishment tried to inflict on him when he inevitably failed. Especially if it meant keeping Warlock from a little of the pain the world could hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the love this has been getting! 
> 
> Yes, the movies they are watching are barbie princess and the pauper and barbie Island princess, respectively. This is almost word for word what happened to me yesterday 😂
> 
> Slashisfamily history is my star trek blog, but  
> @slashismodernhistory is my (currently) gomens blog!  
> https://slashismodernhistory.tumblr.com


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